We Need to Study Our Math Ch. 05

We couldn't afford to quit studying in the evenings, though, for a couple of reasons. Mom and Dad would surely wonder why we suddenly didn't need to, for one thing. And we did need to. Calculus was hard, and even the limited amount of studying we'd gotten done while dealing with our other... distractions had been very helpful.

And those evening study sessions were more difficult.

We did get a good bit of real studying done, but that didn't compensate for needing to sit next to each other without any meaningful physical contact. And it wasn't just me feeling that. As we closed up shop on Monday evening, Maddie said, over the footsteps on the stairs after the news, "That was difficult, Mase. I wanted to touch you. I wanted to so much! But thanks for not pushing it."

I replied, "I wanted to touch you, too. I sure wish we could touch each other, but I understand."

There was no time for more, but she reached over and kissed me. Quickly. On the cheek. And then, before I could react and pull her into a tight embrace, she backed out of reach. She smiled wistfully at me, and I smiled back. Then I turned and gathered up my study materials to leave her room.

Of course, later, in bed and before going to sleep, I jacked off. It did relieve pressure. But wasn't nearly as satisfying as fucking my twin sister—or having her eat me, or even eating her.

Tuesday and Wednesday evenings went much the same way.

Jacking off at bedtime still worked. But it still wasn't what I wanted.

===||<>||===

On Thursday morning, we decided that we needed to bite the bullet and spend the after-school time before Mom or Dad got home together. After all, we wouldn't be able to avoid each other all day, every day, for the whole week of spring break.

When school was out that day, I decided that getting rid of the trash that had been collecting in my school locker for a few weeks was a good way to delay what I was afraid would be a...well, I wasn't sure. It took me all of about fifteen minutes, so Maddie did get home before I did, but not by much. That didn't surprise me—it had sort of been the plan.

Nevertheless, she did have a surprise for me.

"Is that you, Mase?" she yelled from the living room as I came in the front door.

"Yeah, it's me," I answered her.

"I'm in the living room," she answered. "I've been waiting for you to get here."

That was out of the ordinary. Usually, when I got home, she just yelled a greeting. My curiosity was piqued. I stepped into the living room to see what she wanted. And when I got there, I found that there could be no doubt what she had in mind.

She was, indeed, waiting for me. She stood in the middle of the room, facing me. Her feet were about eighteen inches apart, and she had her hands on her hips. She was completely naked.

I think my cock almost tore a hole in my jeans as I popped an almost instant boner.

"Oh, my God!" I breathed.

"I've been thinking about you all day," she said. "And your cock. Ever since we left the house this morning. I need you. I need you to fuck me."

"But..." I stuttered. Again. "But..." She moved slowly toward me, making sure that I could see everything she had to offer. "But we weren't going to..."

I didn't get any further. I was tongue-tied again, tongue-tied to an even greater extent than when she'd stripped in front of me that night in the kitchen—only a little more than a month ago.

"No," she agreed. "We weren't going to. We were going to stop fucking each other. But I want you."

"We... We... We can't," I forced out. I'm afraid I didn't sound very convincing—or convinced. I knew we shouldn't. We'd been through the reasons. We'd been through them time and again, and we both understood why we needed to stop fucking each other.

"You're right," she agreed, surprising me. "We can't. But we're going to."

I found my resolve. "No," I said firmly, trying to back away from her. Truth be told, my heart wasn't altogether into escaping her. And, upon reflection, I don't think many guys would fault me for not doing my very best to get away from a naked woman—a hot naked woman—a naked woman who'd just announced her intent to fuck me, sister or not.

But she'd moved to my right as she stepped toward me, and if I stepped directly away from her, I'd encounter the little table that Mom's favorite vase stood on. Mom's favorite, and very fragile, vase, that is. So I had no choice but to step over toward my right, too. Concentrating, as I was on evading her, I found myself being backed up against the living room couch.

I was trapped, fair and square. Well, pretty fair and square; like I said, I hadn't put my very best effort into getting away from her. I did try; just not too hard.

Smiling, she pressed her naked body up against me and reached up to kiss me. I made one final effort, hoping it would fail. "Are you sure?" I asked, with the last of my will to resist.

"Absolutely," she said. The smile hadn't left her face; in fact, it was now broad, evil. She left no doubt about what she wanted. She made it even clearer by saying, "I need your cock in me, and the sooner, the better." And, before I could respond, she gave me a gentle push backward.

The couch was right there, right against my lower legs. Unable to step backward to maintain my balance, I sat. Instantly, her hands were on my belt buckle, and, seconds later, my cock no longer tried to punch through my jeans; it jutted proudly through the fly she'd opened.

She bent and kissed it, and then looked up into my eyes. "Do you want it this way? Or do you want your jeans off before I sit on it?"

My answer was raising my ass from the couch. Even so, there was still some resistance in me. "Do you really think we should do this?" I asked.

She didn't answer in words. She saw how I'd raised myself to clear the way, and, seconds later, my jeans and shorts were down around my ankles.

"Slide forward a little," she said as she placed her knees on the couch, one to each side of my own legs.

As I slid forward, my hands, which had finally gotten the memo, reached for her tits, where they elicited a sigh from her as she arranged her hips over my straining cock. I caught a whiff of her pussy's aroma, and if I hadn't already been doomed, that would have finished me off.

I suspect none of the turmoil I experienced made any difference to her. She reached for my cock and directed it into her channel as she lowered herself. My assistance wasn't needed.

In a matter of seconds, her body's weight rested on my hips, and, so driven, her sheath contained the full length of my cock. I still held a tit in each hand, and as she sat on me, my cock fully embedded in her, I felt waves of contractions as her inner muscles responded—both to the intruder's presence and to the kneading motion of my fingers. My cock surged and throbbed in response, causing those inner contractions to strengthen and increase.

"You feel so good inside me," she breathed as she unbuttoned my shirt.

"I do," I responded. "I feel really good inside you."

I shrugged off my shirt and pulled my tee-shirt over my head. We sat there for a minute or two, looking at each other's bodies, enjoying the sensations and the emotions that resulted from our intimate, but still quiescent, union.

At last, we could bear it no longer without moving. She began it by raising her body a bit and then lowering herself again—delivering a stroking caress to the cock inside her. And then we were both in motion, each responding joyfully to the other, giving pleasure to the other and taking pleasure as we did so.

Quickly, too quickly, but not quickly enough, Nature's forces mounted inside us. We exploded, driving our bodies together in a last mutual thrust that buried her brother's throbbing cock as deeply as possible in his sister's clasping pussy. My cum surged thickly, heatedly into her, surged again, again, and again.

Then, strength and desire spent for the moment, we collapsed together in each other's arms, but maintained the connection between our bodies from which we'd derived so much pleasure.

We lay there together, each again enjoying the other's body through the languor of afterfuck. After a minute or two, I found the energy to speak. "I've never been raped before."

"Sorry about that," she replied. "Pretty sorry, but not real sorry."

"I thought we weren't going to do that any more," I said. "Not that..." I wasn't quite sure what followed, so I stopped there.

"Not that you regret it a whole lot?" she asked. "I guess I don't, either."

"No, I guess I don't."

She raised her head from where it had fallen on my shoulder; raised it enough to deliver a kiss. It was a kiss that extended for a couple of minutes, a kiss that neither of us especially wanted to break.

When she did back away from me again, we looked into each other's eyes. "I really like lying here on you, with you inside of me like this," she said.

I moaned and said, "Me, too. Every now and then, you contract around me. That feels so good."

"I like that, too," she said. "And I like it when you throb inside me. That feels really good." And she sank back down on me.

And, as she did, her pussy contracted around me again, causing my cock to throb again. Both of us moaned in response.

And so we lay together in intimate embrace for a while, each remarking how we loved the subtle motions of the other's body. Finally, she said, "I guess it's time to get ready for Mom to get home. We probably shouldn't be lying here like this when she gets here."

"Good thinking," I said. "She might not understand."

"I'm afraid she would understand. All too well!" she answered as she stirred herself to sit upright on me. And, looking me in the eye again, she said, "Keep your legs together, so I don't drip on the couch when I get up."

When I'd pulled my knees together, she rose. A mixture of semen and vagina juice flowed out of her, and, owing to her foresight, landed on my balls and my thighs instead of the cloth of the couch.

"Good thinking," I said again. "We'd have had a hell of a time getting that off the couch."

"You'll have to be satisfied with just washing yourself off at the sink," she said. "There isn't time for you to get a shower. And explaining why you got a shower at this time of day would be..."

"It sure would," I agreed, "but it isn't a problem." It didn't bother me. I'd cleaned up after jacking off, and what we'd just done had been far more rewarding than jacking off had ever been. Moreover, I knew that she had to clean herself up, too.

"Mase," she said as we headed upstairs together, "I think we need to talk this evening."

I could see that. I could even agree with that. I answered her, "I guess we do, Maddie. We need to figure things out. We weren't going to do this."

"No, we weren't. But..."

"But!" I said as we reached the top. I leaned over and kissed her; she kissed me back.

We've got a problem," she said. "We have to figure it out."

"We will," I replied. "One way or another, we'll make things work." I didn't have a clue how we would accomplish that, but I was sure we could think of something.

We were both clean enough and properly dressed by the time Mom got home.

===||<>||===

We got together Thursday evening, as usual, to study our math. Next week would be spring break, and we had another test coming up the week after that, so we did need to work on math that evening, and we had fucked right after school, so neither of us had an particularly urgent need to get off. But were we brother and sister? Or were we fuck buddies? Or were we both? We both knew we needed to answer those questions.

So we were both pretty reserved with each other when we gathered our books and notes in Maddie's room after we'd done the after-supper chores and Mom and Dad had started watching their evening TV. I could see that Maddie wasn't especially looking forward to the talk we needed to have any more than I was. We both postponed any real interaction by making elaborate preparations to begin work on the math we were allegedly there to study.

Finally, Maddie broke the ice: "Mason, we've got a problem." It was a reiteration of what she'd said after we'd fucked that afternoon, and it was something we could agree on. She went on, "We can't keep on fucking each other. We just can't!"

"I know we shouldn't," I said. "But you're so hot. And, like this afternoon, when you're naked..."

"This afternoon was my fault," she admitted. "I got so horny thinking about fucking you this morning after we got to school, and I couldn't stop thinking about how good you feel when you're inside me. I thought about it all day long, and I just got hornier and hornier. I had to have you after school. So when I got home before you, I took my clothes off and waited for you. And..." She paused; we both knew what had happened next. Then she continued, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," I said. "We shouldn't fuck. We both know that. I guess we need to stop fucking. But I'm not a bit sorry about anything we've done with each other. Are you? Really?"

"Well..." she said, and paused again. Then she said, "Yes, and no. I'm not sorry I've fucked you. We both like it so much. But we shouldn't have. I'm sorry we're in the fix we're in. I'm sorry we have to quit fucking each other."

I leaned over and kissed her. She kissed me back, and the kiss deepened, extended into time. Eventually, we came up from air. "We shouldn't," she said, looking sadly into my eyes.

I smiled at her and said, "No, we shouldn't." And I kissed her again. As we kissed, she reached for my hand and drew it to one of her boobs. As usual around the house, she wore a sweatshirt, and under it she was braless. I felt her nipple harden as I massaged the round mass of flesh.

"Oh, God, Mase!" she said as we broke out of that kiss. And then she asked, plaintively, "What're we gonna do?" But as she asked, her hand went to my crotch, where it stroked my hardening cock.

I reached into her crotch with my free hand, and as I caressed her slit through her jeans, I said, "Right now, I said, I know what I'm going to do; I'm going to eat your pussy." I reached for her belt buckle, and she thrust her hips forward to make it easier for me to reach.

"And then I'm going to suck your cock," she replied.

Apparently, our lusts for each other weren't quite as satisfied as we'd thought. It wasn't until a half-hour or so later that, after we'd gotten each other off, we managed to get any math done. And, even then, we couldn't keep ourselves from running our hands over each other's bodies. We were still at it when Mom's footsteps sounded on the stairs after the evening news was over.

===||<>||===

That Friday after school, Maddie was already home when I arrived, and she greeted me as I close the front door behind me. "We aren't going to fuck," she said. "I've got a plan." And she reached for my fly.

"Umm... Maddie?" I managed to get out as she worked on my zipper. "I'm not sure you reaching for my cock is the way to keep from fucking..."

"Just be patient," she said, as she reached in and felt around for the opening in my shorts "You'll see." And, having found that fly, she reached in and grasped my now-semi-hard cock."

It continued to stiffen as she pulled it out into the open. And, without a further word, she knelt in front of me, leaned forward, and took almost my entire cock into her mouth.

===||<>||===

A few minutes later, still swallowing, she backed away, smiling up at me. "How was that?" she asked after a moment.

"God!" I said, reaching to put my softening organ back in my pants. "I wish I could tell you how good that was!" I zipped up and continued, "That should keep us from fucking for twenty minutes or so." I smiled back at her, and said, "I should do you, now. You'd better sit on the couch if you think that's a good idea."

She backed to the couch without a second's hesitation. Grinning and lowering her own pants, she said, "What a good idea!" Seconds later, she was sitting on the couch, her jeans beside her, legs spread, her pussy open to whatever I might have in mind.

Briefly, I thought I should fuck her. But she'd just given me a magnificent orgasm, and though my cock was already hardening from the sight of her pussy, I could resist the urge to embed it in her—powerful though it was. Rather than reach again for my zipper, I knelt between her bare legs and bent forward to the enjoyable (for both of us!) task.

===||<>||===

"So what are we going to do about this?" she asked.

We were sitting, side by side, on the couch; her pants were still down around her ankles, and I had a hand in her crotch—gently massaging her mound but avoiding direct stimulation of her still-sensitive clit. Her hand rested on my partially stiff cock, barely moving.

I turned and returned the look she was giving me; we both knew we had to address our problem. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know if we can quit fucking each other."

"We have to quit," she answered. "But I don't know if we can, either. If Mom and Dad..."

"Yeah," I said. "If..."

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, pondering our options.

"Next week, we'll be alone in the house every day," she pointed out. "I don't think I can keep my hands off of you all that time."

I sent a finger into her cleft, where it just brushed her clit. She jumped at the touch, and I said, "I know I can't keep away from you for a whole week with no one else around."

She put her free hand on my hand, where it still gently massaged her pussy, and said, "Don't! That's too much right after I've come. It doesn't help our discussion when you do that." The hand on my cock grabbed and stroked through my jeans. Now I jumped.

"Okay! Okay!" I responded. "What you're doing isn't helping, either." Her motion subsided, again became barely, but very pleasantly, noticeable. She leaned toward me, seeking a kiss.

That kiss extended into time; it lasted a few minutes, I guess, while both of us thought about what we were going to do.

At length, she backed away and returned to her original position on the couch. "I guess," she said, "we've got a couple of choices."

"That's more than I came up with," I answered. "What?"

"Well," she said, "we could just agree not to fuck each other any more and try to make it through spring break without fucking."

"I think we know how that'll work," I pointed out.

"Yeah," she said. "It won't work at all."

"What's option two?" I asked.

To be Continued